


Love at the End of the World

by smolderfrost



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU after season 6, Angst, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, but some comic thrown in, show canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8129539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolderfrost/pseuds/smolderfrost
Summary: Negan helps two sisters by setting them on the road to Alexandria. When tragedy strikes, he tries to step in again but can Negan honestly help anyone?





	1. Walgreens

**Author's Note:**

> I have not read as far as Negan's introduction in the comics and this fic was begun almost as soon a Season 6 ended. SO, there's a lot of artistic license going on with Negan, the Saviors, and the Sanctuary. Some stuff I'm researching but mostly I'm just making it up as I go along.
> 
> The song lyrics in this fic are from Minnie Driver's song "The Wire" on her 2004 album Everything I've Got in My Pocket.

Living on a wire

The sight of you could save my skin

And the sun is in my eyes

And the breeze lifts the hair from my neck

**Chapter One**

 

“I'll probably die.”

The childish voice reached him just as he was about to pull open the already propped open backdoor of the small town's only pharmacy. Negan stopped to listen, assessing the situation inside.

“You're not going to die. It's a scratch.” A woman's voice this time, slight exasperated.

“I know it's just a scratch. That's why it'll be so tragic. Because I'll be killed by an insignificant wound at such a terribly young age.” The young voice was infused with a great deal of theatricality. Enough to bring a grin to Negan's face.

“How exactly are you planning to die from this scratch?” 

“It'll get infected,” the girl stated with confidence. “I'm not sure if you've noticed, but our usually high standards of hygiene have declined over the last couple years.”

A laughing snort, then, “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Well, it'll turn into blood poisoning. It'll get red and really inflamed.” Negan could tell the girl was enjoying the drama of her own story. “Then red streaks will appear and nothing you do will help. It'll spread through my body and I'll burn with fever until I die. You'll be very sad and you'll cry over my body until I turn into a deader. Then you'll stab me in the head. But you'll never recover emotionally. You'll waste away from your grief and just sit down under a tree and close your eyes and die. Then you'll turn and get up and wander the earth in a never ending search for human flesh.”

“Jesus, Addy.” The woman sighed. “You're not going to die. I've doused it in hydrogen peroxide, smeared it with antibiotic ointment, covered it with a bandaid, wrapped it with gauze, and now you're going to put a clean sock on. No blood poisoning for you.”

“You don't know that for sure. I'm probably a goner.”

“You're not going to die. Nobody is dying!”

The child's voice dripped with disdain, Negan could practically hear the unspoken you're so dumb in her next statement, “Emmy, _everybody_ is dying.”

Negan eased himself, and Lucille, into the pharmacy as quietly as possible. He wanted a look at the girl and the woman before he made his presence known. 

The half dozen men he was with were spread out through the deserted town looking for supplies. He'd taken the drug store because he didn't trust them to get the right stuff or to not consume what they found. And he really didn't feel like beating the brains out of his own goddamn men today. This was just a quick, last stop before heading home and he didn't have much time before they were supposed to head out.

The two girls sat cross legged on the floor. He wasn't good at guessing the ages of children but while the younger one wasn't little, she also wasn't quite a teenager yet. Ten, eleven, twelve? Her hair was strawberry blond and a frizzy halo of curls cut to her chin. Her features were sharp and she needed to grow into her ears. Dark freckles were scattered across her nose and cheeks.

The woman's hair was the same shade of strawberry blond, but it fell like a rippling waterfall to the middle of her back. Her oval face was similar to the girl's, but the features were softer, delicate instead of sharp. Her eyes were dark brown as were the girl's, whom he was guessing was her sister. She looked to be in her early twenties, too young have child that old. He thought he could make out a faint smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks as well. Both had the too thin look that came with being on the road.

“Alright, your foot is fine. You're not going to die today. But please keep your shoes on from now on so we don't chance another injury and possible blood poisoning.” She stood up, “So, lets find some sunscreen, water, food, soap, shampoo, antibiotics, and tylenol. Maybe a new book.” She gathered up the supplies she'd used on the girl's foot and stuffed them into her backpack. “And some tampons.”

“ _Ewwwwww_ , Emmeline!”

“Oh, don't even,” was the unsympathetic reply.

The sisters separated, Addy heading down the personal care aisle while Emmeline went in search of over-the-counter painkillers. Negan admired her restraint. There were whole shelves of much better, much stronger painkillers behind the pharmacist's counter, but she never seemed to consider it.

“Score!” came an excited shout from Addy. “Dry shampoo!” she held up a bottle to show her sister. “How many bottles should I get?”

“One dry, one regular.”

“How about 2 dry?”

Emmeline sighed, “No. One of each.” The look on Addy's face was mutinous. “Hey, we learned from that experience, right?”

“Yeah, we learned to use dry shampoo because deaders will grab you from under the water and try to eat you when your sister makes you take a bath in a stupid pond.” 

“No. We learned to bath in shallow, clear water that we can see the bottom of. The whole grabbed by the dead while bathing thing isn't going to happen again.”

“Fine.” Addy said with an unconvinced expression on her face. “But I'm using the dry shampoo.” The two bottles of shampoo were shoved forcefully into her backpack. “How many bars of soap?”

“Is there a three pack? Of Dove?” Emmeline had moved on to the aisle with food and was busily stuffing granola bars and packs of nuts into her bag.

“Yep. I can carry more than three.”

“No, other stuff is more important.” She pointed over Addy's shoulder, “Check the beverage cooler for water.”

Addy wandered over to the non-functioning fridge, “There's a couple. And, hey, soda!”

“Any Wild Cherry Pepsi?”

“Nope. Just regular.”

Emmeline huffed in disappointment, “Nevermind.” She ripped open a package of hair elastics, putting two on her wrist and using a third to fix her hair into a messy bun high up on her head. Then she moved on to a display of sunscreen and busily started shoving half a dozen bottles into her pack.

The two sisters were now as far away from each other as they could be. It seemed like the perfect time to make his presence known.

“Well, well, well, what the fuck to we have here?” He strode out into the store from the back, lightly tapping Lucille on every counter, display, and shelf as he went by, going so far as too knock the stand of eyeglasses over. The two girls froze, looks of horror on their faces as they found themselves on opposite sides of the store with a barbwire-wrapped baseball-bat-wielding man standing between them.

“Em?!” the child started to move towards her older sister.

“Nuh uh uh, litte sister. Stay right the fuck where you are.” Negan gestured with Lucille in her direction.

“It's okay, Addy,” Emmeline tried to reassure he sister.

“No, it's not fucking okay, Emmeline! You two are royally fucked. Up shit creek without a paddle. Screwed.” Keeping Lucille pointed at Addy, he turned a hard stare on Emmeline. “And do you know why you're fucked?” He didn't wait for either girl to answer, “Because you let your guard down, in an unsecured building, the fucking backdoor was propped open for fuck's sake, and you weren't fucking paying attention to what is going on around you! Hell, woman, the dead are walking and there's a world full of bad motherfuckers out there, and you two are acting like you're on a Saturday afternoon shopping trip!”

Emmeline stared at the man in something like stunned disbelief. Was he threatening her or scolding her? She wanted to tell him to go to hell or to shut up or something but she was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was right. She hadn't been paying attention and she and Adelaide might just pay for it with their lives.

Addy's voice, in a loud exaggerated stage whisper, broke the silence, “ _Emmy, he keeps saying the f-word_.”

Negan threw back his head and roared with laughter, “Goddamn, I like you, kid!” He rested Lucille against his shoulder and relaxed his stance. “Go on to your sister, little girl.”

Addy scampered around shelves, careful to avoid Negan, and joined her sister by the sunscreen display. Emmeline wrapped her arm protectively around her little sister.

“So,” he gestured with the hand not holding Lucille, “shorter one is Addy, taller one is Emmeline. I'm Negan.”

Neither girl said anything.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Have you lost your fucking manners?”

“I don't think you get to talk to us about manners when you keep using _that word_.”

“Adelaide!” The arm wrapped around Addy moved up and Emmeline covered her sister's mouth with her hand. “Sorry. It's nice to meet you.” Emmeline hoped she sounded polite and not terrified. Because she was absolutely terrified.

“Well, that's fucking better, isn't it? It's a pleasure to meet two such nice fucking girls as yourselves.”

Emmeline could feel Addy trying to say something, most likely another comment about Negan's language, behind her hand so she pressed it harder against Addy's mouth. Two seconds later, she jerked her hand away, “ _Ew_ , Addy!” and wiped it down her pant leg trying to Adelaide's spit off. “No licking!”

Negan chuckled, seemingly charmed by the little girl.

Emmeline studied the man in front of her. He was clean, well dressed, and looked fed. He obviously wasn't desperate or living rough. And, while she wasn't sure of his intentions yet, he hadn't hurt them, robbed them or killed them. Yet. “You have a camp?”

“Yep.”

“Is it far from here?”

“Why? You looking for a place?”

Emmeline glanced down at the top of Addy's head, “Yeah. Being on the road isn't living.” Her arm came back up and around Addy again and gave her a squeeze, “She needs more.”

“I'm fine,” Addy said resentfully. “Besides, his camp is probably full of potty-mouths like him.”

“Adelaide!”

Negan didn't laugh this time. His expression was serious, “Shes' right.”

Emmeline huffed a little laugh, “Your camp is full of potty-mouths? I think our delicate ears can take it.” She eyed him with a mixture of fear, suspicion, and hope on her face.

Negan knew what made him so successful in the post-apocalyptic world was his ability to read people. He could very quickly assess a situation, a group, a person and intuitively know the coming actions and reactions. He knew who would be the troublemaker, who was the pussy peacemaker, and who couldn't be intimidated. He could read a man and know if he'd give up his woman to ensure his own comfort and he could read which women would go along with it, or hell, be all for it. In just a few minutes, he could figure which person's death would have the impact he was looking for. What would break a new group or motivate them to do what he wanted. Who would be an asset to The Sanctuary and who wasn't cut out for it.

And he knew these two girls were not cut out for it.

“The Sanctuary is not the kind of place you're looking for.”

“Well, why not?” Emmeline didn't even know if she could trust this man, but she didn't like being told that she wouldn't fit in with his group. It was obvious he had food, shelter, and more, and she desperately wanted that for Addy.

“Because they'd chew you up and spit you both the fuck out.” He turned and walked towards a display up by the checkout counter. He grabbed a folded up map of Virginia and spread it out over the counter. “C'mere.”

Emmeline didn't move.

“I'm trying to be a nice fucking guy right now, so get your ass moving and get up here.”

“Put the bat down first.”

“What, Lucille?” he looked at the bat in surprise, then grinned. “My sweet girl makes you nervous, huh? Okay, okay,” he set the bat down on the counter with exaggerated care.

Emmeline grasped Addy by both shoulders, “Stay.” Then she walked up and joined Negan at the front of the store.

He reached over the counter and groped around behind it until he found a pen. He marked an X on the map, “We're here.” She nodded. He drew a line, following secondary roads, then marked a second X on the map. “Go there.”

“What's there?”

“It's nice fucking place, okay? They've got walls and houses and food. They'll take you in and nobody will fucking mess with you and baby sister over there.”

“How do you know?”

“I do some business with them.”

“What kind of business?” she asked.

“They work for me.”

“HOW do they work for you?”

“Shit, you don't give up so you?” He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her in exasperation. “They give me half their shit once a month and I don't fucking kill them, okay?”

Her dark, startled eyes stared at him for a minute, then she said softly,“No, your group isn't for us, is it?” Emmeline nodded her head and looked at the map. “Why should I go there if you're just gonna show up a month from now and kill everybody?”

“Well, don't fucking tell them this, but I'm not going to kill everybody because then there'd be no fucking assholes to work for me. I don't want to kill anyone. But I will do the shit that needs to be done.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “Look, I don't kill women or kids. Okay? Even if they short me on my fucking stuff and I roll up on their asses and make them sorry for fucking me over, you and the kid would be fine.”

Emmeline honestly couldn't believe she was having a conversation like this, with a man like this, right now. It was surreal. “You're sure they're okay people?” She then wondered, to herself, why she was willing to trust his judgment.

“Jesus, I said so didn't I? They got kids and old people and shit. They seem really fucking attached to each other. They'll take you in, give you a place to live, and food to eat. And then you won't be fucking wandering around rural goddamn Virginia Walgreens with your head up your ass.”

Ignoring his last comment, she took the map and carefully refolded it. Or attempted to. By her third attempt to get it folded right, he snatched it out of her hands, folded it precisely on the first try and, grabbing her shoulders to spin her around, shoved it down into the pack on her back.

“Two more things: don't fucking leave this store until me and my guys are gone and for fuck's sake, don't tell the people at that place that I sent you. Or that you ever met me. Or ever even fucking heard of me.” He gave her a hard look, “Got it?”

Emmeline nodded, “Yeah, I got it.”

He grabbed Lucille off the counter and rested her back against his shoulder. He sauntered to the back of the store, slid over the pharmacist's counter and started going through the drugs to find the stuff he wanted. He paid no more attention to the girls, who went back to gathering their own supplies. Both watched him from the corners of their eyes.

After a few minutes a voice came from the backdoor, “Hey, boss! You in here?”

Negan motioned with Lucille for the two girls to get down, in case the man came inside. “Yeah. You guys all set?”

“Got everything all loaded up already.”

“Well, then, let's get out of this shithole and go the fuck home.” 

Addy's head popped up over the counter and Negan threw her a wink as he strolled toward the backdoor of the store. She waved quick, stuck out her tongue, and then ducked back down behind the shelf.

Negan chuckled to himself as he left and joined his men in the trucks waiting outside.

_Four days later_......

It had taken four days of walking to reach the second X on the map Negan had given them. Once Emmeline was sure they were close and that she could find the place without the map, she tore it up into tiny pieces and scattered it on the ground. Better they thought she and Addy had just stumbled across the place than try to explain how they got a map leading to the front door.

As they approached the gate, Emmeline noticed the large sign attached to the tall metal walls: “WELCOME TO THE ALEXANDRIA SAFE ZONE: MERCY FOR THE LOST, VENGEANCE FOR THE PLUNDERS.”

Noting the sniper in the watch tower, she and Addy took off their packs and set them on the ground. They removed the knives they each carried strapped to their belts and set those on top of the packs. Then, taking deep breathes and holding their arms out to show they weren't a threat, they walked forward and into the opening gates.


	2. Black Beans and Rice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a vague reference to Negan's comic book victim in this chapter, so spoilers.

So precariously  
I am inching my way across my life  
I could fall if you don't call  
A sick safety net appears when I see you

**Chapter Two**

_4 months later..._

“Why's it florescent yellow?”

“I wouldn't call it _florescent_.” Emmeline denied, unconvincingly.

“It's the same color as the corn.”

“Well, there you go. Corn is not florescent.”

“But why is the rice the same color as the corn?”

“Just eat it. It's good for you.”

“Em, rice should not be bright _corn-colored_ yellow. I don't think it can possibly be good for me.”

“It tastes fine. Just. Eat. It.” Emmeline scooped up a spoonful of rice and shoved it in her mouth to demonstrate just how fine it was. It didn't taste fine, but she wasn't going to admit it.

Adelaide watched her closely, as if waiting for her to keel over from eating the too yellow rice. Finally, after watching Em eat several mouthfuls, she pushed a spoonful into her own mouth.

“It doesn't taste right,” she said around her mouthful of food, spraying the table in front of her with rice.

“Adelaide! Gross!”

Em jumped up and grabbed a dish towel from the kitchen sink and used it to wipe up the table. Instead of walking it back over to the sink, she tossed it from where she stood, then sat back down in front of her dinner. “All right,” she finally admitted with a groan, “I messed it up.”

“How do you mess up black beans and rice? It's literally black beans and rice, with some corn and an onion thrown in.”

“And spices.”

Addy looked down at her dinner, “Is that the part you messed up?”

“Well, not all our spices have labels! I thought I grabbed the cumin. I guess it must have been tumeric.”

“What the fuck is tumeric?”

“Adelaide! Language!” Emmeline chastised. Ever since their encounter with Negan four months ago, the previously anti-swearing Adelaide had been occasionally spicing up her language with the f-word.

“Sorry.” She didn't actually sound sorry at all. “What the heck is tumeric?”

“It's a spice, used in a lot of Indian dishes. And it can be used as a substitute for saffron.”

“What the fuck is saffron?”

“ADELAIDE!”

“Sorry.” She still didn't sound sorry. “What the heck is saffron?”

“A spice. And a shade of yellow.”

“So, the tumeric made the rice yellow?”

“Yes.”

“And weird tasting?”

“Yes.”

Adelaide put her spoon down, and Emmeline figured an argument was about to start over eating the beans and rice. She held up a hand to stop her before she even started, “It's the fucking apocalypse, Addy. I don't care if it tastes like dog shit, it's good for you so just fucking eat it!”

“Emmeline! Language!” Adelaide scolded in mock outrage. Then she laughed, “I bet that's just how Negan would have said it.”

Emmeline grinned at her, reached out and ruffled her wild hair. Okay, so maybe they were both channeling their inner-Negan sometimes.

The Alexandria Safe Zone had turned out to be the best thing that had happened to them since the dead started walking. Walls. A house of their own. Food. Water. People. And not just any people, but good people who they cared about and who cared about them. Schooling for Adelaide. Work for Emmeline. Safety.

It was almost possible to pretend the world hadn't come to an end.

The sisters ate their dinner in silence for a few minutes until they became aware of raised voices outside. Emmeline bolted out of her chair and was reaching for the knife strapped to her thigh when the front door crashed open.

“Surprise fucking inspection!” Negan, Lucille in hand, filled the door frame. He turned and looked at Rick and Daryl, who were behind him on the porch and obviously objecting to his presence at the girls' house, and said, “Go get my fucking shit and help my men load it in the truck!” He slammed the door shut in Rick's face and strode in just like he owned place. Just before the door closed, Em caught a glance of Daryl's worried expression.

“Negan!” Addy shrieked in delight. She jumped up and race around the table, flinging her arms around Negan's middle when she reach him.

Em caught his startled expression before he grinned and settled one arm, the one not holding Lucille, around Addy's shoulder.

“Thought I'd pay my two favorite girls a visit.”

“How did you know this was our house?” Addy demanded.

“I had a couple of my men keep a look out for the two most brilliant and gorgeous women in Alexandria and which house they lived in.” He winked at Em over Addy's head.

Emmeline felt the butterflies, which had started fluttering in her stomach the moment he opened the front door, practically explode at the wink. She reached up and tucked a lock of strawberry blonde behind her ear, then crossed her arms nervously.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to eat dinner with us?” Addy asked as she tugged him by the hand toward the dining room table.

“Hell, yes. I'm fucking starving.”

Emmeline hurried over to the cabinet and got out another bowl, which she filled from the pot on the stove, and then a glass, which she filled from a pitcher in the fridge.

She carried them over and set them in front of Negan. Their square kitchen table sat four and the girls always sat across from each other. Negan had set Lucille down on one empty chair and seated himself in the other. Em and Addy resumed their seats and their dinner.

Negan lifted his glass, “Where the fuck did you get milk? Is old Rick the Prick hiding a cow from me somewhere?”

“It's powdered.” Em frowned at him, not liking the reminder of who Negan was and why he was here. It made it hard to pretend that their rescuer was a knight in shining armor, instead of the villain.

He leaned in toward her, grinning charmingly, and rubbed his finger against the scowl lines between her eyebrows, “You're gonna get wrinkles.” His attention shifted to the food on his plate. The bright yellow food on his plate. “So. What's this?” 

He looked just as suspicious as Addy had been. Emmeline silently wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

“Grandma Tucker's Famous Saffron Beans and Rice,” Addy piped up. “It's an old family recipe,” she added breezily while spooning a large amount of rice into her mouth. Emmeline could have kissed her she was so grateful.

But they ruined it, of course, when they caught each others' eye and started to giggle.

Negan looked suspiciously at his food again, “What?”

“It's not a family recipe, Em just fucked it up.”

“Adelaide!”

“Sorry.” Still not sorry. “Em messed up the recipe.”

He forked some into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Negan shrugged, “Well, it's not the worst fucking thing I ever ate.” Then he looked sternly at Addy and pointed at her with his fork, “And when did you become such a _potty-mouth_ , Miss? Are these fuckers a bad influence?”

Em laughed, “You're the bad influence. She's been tossing the f-word into every other sentence since we met you.”

He continued to wag his fork at Addy, “Little children shouldn't fucking swear. It's goddamn un-polite.”

Emmeline studied Negan as he and Addy engaged in a good-natured argument over whether or not children should swear. Addy reasoned that if Negan wanted her not to swear, he should set a better example. Negan was taking a “do as I say, not as I do” stance about the whole thing.

He was just as charismatic as she remembered. She'd never met someone whom she simply couldn't take her eyes off of before. Looking away from him was impossible. It probably helped that he was easy on the eyes as well. The slicked back black hair, salt and pepper beard, leather jacket, and red scarf all worked for him. Really well.

It was difficult to reconcile this charming man with the boogeyman everyone in Alexandria was so afraid of. How could the man who had rescued them possibly be the monster who had killed her friend's husband?

It was wrong to find him handsome and charming when he had done, and would continue to do, so much harm to her friends. How would she feel about him if she'd met the residents of Alexandria first? She thought she'd be a hell of lot less confused if she had.

Her head hurt and her heart had started to pound. The butterflies seemed more like angry bees now.

“Earth to Emmeline!” Em was jerked back to reality by Negan's voice and the hand he was waving in front of her face. “Where the fuck did you go?”

“Sorry,” she shook her head as if to clear it. “I was thinking about contradictions.” He quirked a brow at her, but she didn't elaborate. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying you have a nice fucking place here.”

Em and Addy had chosen one of the smaller houses in Alexandria. It was two stories, white with dark gray shutters, and a gray metal roof. The downstairs had an open layout and the kitchen, dining room, and living room were essentially one big room. There was a bathroom and a bedroom on the first floor as well. The upstairs had three bedrooms and another bathroom. The girls had cleared out all of the personal photos of the house's previous occupants but had kept most of the décor intact. The people who lived here before had had great taste.

“It is a nice place,” she agreed. “I can't really take much credit for it. It pretty much looked this way when we moved in.” Emmeline looked down at her empty bowl and cup. She glanced around the table and realized that Addy and Negan had finished as well. She stood and gathered up the bowls and spoons and carried them over to the sink. She came back over to the table and picked up the three glasses. She avoided eye contact with Negan. He reached out and gently grabbed her wrist before she could scuttle away again.

“What?” he asked her softly.

“It's nothing,” she said, briefly meeting his eyes. Em eased her wrist from his grip and he let her go. She walked back to the kitchen sink and placed the empty glasses in it. She turned around, leaned back against the sink, her hands behind her gripping the edge of it. Her eyes caught his again, “It's just....I want to tell you thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Sending us here saved our lives. And it's more than that,” she said, earnestly. “The people here are wonderful and they love us. And we love them.”

Negan was wearing a very self-satisfied smile on his face and his eyes sparked at her, “Well, now, darlin' -”

“But I don't want you to visit us again,” she interrupted.

The smile quickly left his face. The front legs of his chair hit the floor with a thud as he suddenly sat forward.

“Oh, Em,” Addy whined softly in disappointment.

“I'm grateful for what you did for us. I'll always be grateful for what you did for us. But what you're doing to the people here is wrong. And we live here, so you're doing it to us too.” She felt some of her anxiety ease. She'd chosen a side. “So, the only capacity I want to see you in is as the asshole who shows up once a month to steal our food and supplies.”

Negan stood abruptly. He grabbed Lucille from the chair he'd placed her on earlier and held her up, resting her on his shoulder. The charming, charismatic man was gone. His eyes were cold and his face closed as he looked at Emmeline, still across the room leaning against the sink. “Whatever you say, darlin'.” 

He strode out of the house, slamming the door so hard behind him that the metal owl decorating the front wall fell to the floor.

Addy got up from the table and walked over to Em. She wrapped her arms around her sister's middle and leaned her head against Em's chest. “Oh, Emmy, I wish you didn't have to do that,” she whispered.

“Yeah, me too, baby.”

She wasn't sure how long they stood in the kitchen, hugging. Eventually, she guessed after the Saviors had finally left, Daryl rushed in to check on them.

He cupped her cheek with his hand and asked quietly, “You okay?”

She pulled one hand away from Addy's back and placed it over his hand, “Yeah, we're okay.” She didn't explain, just continued to keep the secret of how they'd come to Alexandria and their connection to Negan.


	3. It's Like Riding a Bicycle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a non-vague reference to Negan's comic book victim.
> 
> It also contains the non-graphic but violent death of a minor.
> 
> Song lyrics are from Minnie Driver's "The Wire" from her 2004 album Everything I've Got in My Pocket.

Oh, I climb so high  
Waiting to fall

**Chapter 3**

_2 months later...._

Adelaide's favorite thing about Alexandria was the people. Besides herself, and Emmeline, there were 62 other people living in the Safe Zone. From baby Judith all the way up to 84 year old Mrs. Johanssen, Addy loved each and every one of them.

Emmeline's favorite thing about Alexandria was the walls. Adelaide was safe, Emmeline was safe, and the insanity of the world they lived in was kept a bay by four strong, tall metal walls.

Life was incredibly normal within Alexandria's walls, a fact for which Emmeline was immensely grateful.

Father Gabriel, in an effort to contribute beyond Sunday services, had started a school of sorts where the kids in Alexandria went for four hours day, five days a week. A young woman who'd been in her third year of college, studying to become a teacher when the world fell apart, ran it with him. While Adelaide was in school, Emmeline worked in Alexandria's large vegetable gardens. For the most part, it was just her and Maggie unless, for some reason, they needed extra help. Recently, it was usually just Emmeline as Maggie was recovering from the birth of her son. It was the end of October, and winter would be here soon, so there was very little to do and one person was enough to do it.

As she gathered the last of the pumpkins from the garden, loading them into a little red wagon, she thought about Negan. This wasn't unusual. She couldn't stop thinking about him, no matter how hard she tried. It was confusing to still feel so grateful toward someone who made life so difficult.

It was a constant struggle to meet his quota. The garden had to do well. She and Maggie spent hours in it everyday trying to make sure it flourished. Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and others made constant runs to have enough food and supplies for Alexandria's residents plus that much again to give to Negan. People were afraid. The trauma of the night eight months before, when Negan beat Maggie's young husband to death with Lucille, still rippled through the community. 

His men were due to come next week to pick up supplies. The Alexandria's residents always had it ready and sitting out, in front of their open food pantry, for inspection. They were trying, very hard, to make it obvious that this was half of what they had. Everyone waited anxiously until his men were satisfied with what was in front of them. They never were. They always searched through the community to make sure nothing was being held back. And always took the opportunity to help themselves to anything else they saw that they wanted.

In the six months that she and Adelaide had been in Alexandria, Negan had only accompanied the Saviors that one time to collect supplies. Emmeline was thankful he came so rarely. It made it easier to keep the charming, foul-mouthed stranger who'd sent her here to this safe place and these wonderful people separate in her mind from the same man of whom everyone was so terrified.

Emmeline finished gathering the pumpkins and, grabbing the handle of the wagon, began pulling it as she headed toward Olivia and the community pantry. She made her way the few blocks over to the garage where their supplies were stored.

Olivia met her at the garage entrance, clipboard in hand, “How many?”

“Twelve,” Emmeline reported.

“Awesome,” Olivia commented. Pointing with her pen to a lower shelf, “Put them there for now. Carol's going to take care of them tomorrow.”

“What's she going to do with them?”

“Um...boil them? I think. Then mash them up and can them?”

It secretly amused Emmeline that the woman in charge of the food had so little knowledge of preserving and preparing it.

“Are you going back up for anything else?” Olivia questioned.

“Nope, I'm done for the day. Addy's almost done with lessons so I'm going to walk over to the church and get her.”

“Okay, good. I'm closing up.”

“Is it okay if I leave the wagon here? I'll come get it in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure.” Olivia walked her to the garage door, “Hey, tell Addy 'hi' for me.”

“Sure thing.” Emmeline smiled as she headed out the door and down the driveway, “Have a good rest of the day, Olivia!”

“Thanks, you too!”

The church was two streets over and one street up. Emmeline cut through the yard of an unoccupied house which deposited her in front of Alexandria's centrally located grassy commons. She noticed Rosita and Daryl having a conversation a few feet in front of her and veered sharply to her right to try to avoid them.

“Hey!” Daryl shouted.

Emmeline ignored him and increased her pace slightly.

“Hey, Em!”

“I can't stop!” she called over her shoulder trying to sound friendly, but just too rushed to stop.

“Nuh uh, Em.” Daryl left Rosita and walked after her. “Wait up!”

Emmeline huffed impatiently, but stopped. “I have to go get Addy.”

“No, ya don't. She knows how to find ya.” He caught up with her, “Rosita says ya missed weapons training. Again.”

“I was busy. With Maggie at home, I'm the only person working in the garden right now.” She glanced down at the ground, suddenly fascinated by a spot of dirt on her shoe. “Besides, I already know how to defend myself with a weapon.”

“Not good enough,” he said in that maddeningly quiet voice. “And, besides, yer outta practice. 'Bout six months outta practice.”

“I'm fine. Really. It's like riding a bicycle. Walking corpse comes at me, I stab it in the head. You don't forget how to do it.”

“Ain't just the dead ya gotta be worried about.” He reached out an pushed her chin up so her eyes were on his face again, then dropped his hand away, “Ya can't pretend the world outside just don't exist.”

“ _The dead are walking and there's a world full of bad motherfuckers out there_ ,” she said quietly to herself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just something somebody said to me once.” She pushed a hand through her strawberry blonde hair, “Look, I know you're right. I do. It's just....” Emmeline sighed, “Well, I don't know what it is exactly. But I'd like to pretend that the world is a safe and happy place where I don't need somebody to teach me machete safety rules for a little while longer.”

“Ya have until tomorrow. I'll be by to fetch ya myself.” He gestured over her shoulder, “Here comes Addy,” then turned and was gone before she could argue.

Emmeline tried to listen attentively to Addy's happy chatter as they walked together to their house, tried not to think about weapons training and why she needed weapons training in the first place.

The white house was a small one, since it was just the two of them. It was still too big. They weren't using the upstairs at all. Three bedrooms and a bathroom going to waste since they'd decided to share the downstairs bedroom because it felt better to be together at night. Emmeline thought that, someday, if needed, they'd offer to share the house with other survivors. 

Adelaide put her book, and notebook, she'd been carrying on the kitchen counter and skipped down the hall into their bedroom. She emerged a moment later with the start of a wonky scarf dangling from pair of knitting needles in one hand and the attached ball of yarn in the other.

“I'm going to go show Mrs. Johanssen how far I got!”

Emmeline turned on the water in the kitchen sink and began to wash the garden dirt from her hands and arms. She glanced out the kitchen window, which faced Mrs. Johanssen's house, and realized the elderly lady wasn't sitting on the porch swing like usual.

Concerned that she was napping, and that Addy would wake her up in her excitement over her knitting accomplishments, Em turned off the water and grabbed a kitchen towel to dry her hands. She headed for the front door, intent on calling Addy back. Her hand was on the doorknob when she heard Mrs. Johanssen's front door open and then slam close.

“Dammit, Addy,” Emmeline grumbled to herself. She sped up, hoping she could get into Mrs. Johanssen's and grab Addy before she woke the poor woman up.

She had just reached the first step down off their porch when Addy started screaming. A piercing, terrified, pain-filled scream that she'd never be able to forget. She started running, running as fast as she could but she knew from the sounds of the screams that she was too late. Too late. Too late. 

And, even knowing it was too late, and that she couldn't save Addy, she still ran full tilt toward Mrs. Johanssen's house.

The screams stopped.

Others had heard the screams and were coming too, Em could hear them behind her. She kept running and it seemed like she was never going to reach Adelaide. She'd never reach her in time because it was already too late.

She was grabbed by two strong arms from behind and jerked to a stop. She knew it was Daryl even as she used her elbows to jab at him and her hands to claw at his arms, trying to get him to let her go. “Let me go, Daryl! My baby's in there!” She hit and kicked every part of him she could reach. She even attempted to smash the back of her head into his face, but the differences in their height meant she was unsuccessful.

Rick raced by them and took Mrs. Johanssen's steps two at a time, then burst in through the front door.

Daryl was dragging her to the ground. He finally managed to pin her arms under his so she couldn't use them against him. He held her close even as she continued to struggle ineffectively.

The sound of two shots came from inside the house.

All the fight left Emmeline. Her body collapsed to the ground, taking Daryl with her. She felt the grass against her cheek, the cool earth against her body, Daryl's warm body against her back. And in her head she heard Addy screaming and the sound of two gunshots over and over and over again.

The screaming in her head got louder and louder. The gunshots echoed endlessly.

“ _Shh_ , Em, _shh_ ,” Daryl soothed helplessly, his hands stroking her hair and her back as he tried to give comfort when no comfort was possible.

_Of course_ , Em thought distantly, _Addy isn't screaming anymore. I am._

Emmeline screamed and screamed and screamed.


	4. Guts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character death in this chapter is from the comics - so spoiler.
> 
> All song lyrics in this fic are from Minnie Driver's song "The Wire" from her 2004 album Everything I've Got in My Pocket.

_How does it go down_  
_When you're the biggest kid in your own playground?_

**Chapter Four**

_4 months later...._

Negan looked at the assemblage of kneeling people in front of him. He tapped Lucille's end on the pavement impatiently. _How fucking long was it going to take these motherfuckers to get out of their houses and on their damn knees in the grass in front of him?_

“This isn't fucking everybody!” he growled at Rick. Off the top of his head, he see that there were at least three people missing: Emmeline, Adalaide, and Rick's Right-hand Redneck.

Rick looked over the gathered crowd, taking a quick census of his people. He looked back up at Negan, “Daryl's getting her.”

_What the fuck does he mean by 'her'?_ Neither of the Tucker sisters were here. _Why the hell hadn't Rick said 'them'?_ He looked back over the sixty or so people in front of him, searching for a strawberry blonde head, thinking maybe he'd just missed one of them. But, no. No freckle-faced, redheads looked back at him.

He was here because he was sure Rick was up to something. He had a few scouts watching Alexandria from the woods and they'd reported increased supply runs over the last six months. There hadn't been a corresponding increase in the amount of supplies the Saviors were getting. His men tore the place apart once a month but couldn't locate any hidden supplies. Negan didn't know what Rick was stockpiling or where he was stockpiling it at, but he'd come to damn well find out.

And instead, he was obsessing about two girls he'd met twice. He'd let Emmeline and her little sister get under his skin. He thought about them far more often than he should. Like now, when his head needed to be in the game, not worrying about two females who'd told him to take a hike.

As much as he'd enjoyed spending a little time with the sisters, he'd ultimately been glad when Em shut that shit down. It was risking too much to form a genuine attachment to someone. It was a weakness he couldn't afford. He'd almost lost himself once, in the aftermath of losing someone, and he wasn't doing that shit again.

Finally, after what felt like fucking forever, he could hear slow footsteps coming up behind him. He resisted the urge to turn around. Continuing to tap Lucille on the pavement impatiently, he waited as whoever it was made tortuously slow progress toward the commons. 

When they finally made their way past him, his eyes went to the redneck first. Scruffy, dirty, hair in his eyes, sleeves torn off his shirt. This asshole had been on Em's porch trying to stop him from going in last time. And here he was again, with his arm was around Emmeline's shoulders, steering her toward the gathered crowd. Negan wanted take Lucille and bash him.

Emmeline was wearing an oversized white t-shirt and fuzzy blue pajama pants. Her feet were bare. Her hair was unbrushed and unwashed. Pale white skin caused her light dusting of freckles stand out sharply and stretched over a now near skeletal form. Daryl appeared to be the only thing keeping her on her feet and moving. Once they reached the others, he guided her down to her knees and tried to keep his arm around her, but she pushed away from him. She turned her head sharply away, staring at the grass, never looking up at the people around her.

And still no Adelaide.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded, shouting in spite of himself. “Where's the kid?”

Rick looked uncertainly toward Carl.

“Not your kid!” Negan jabbed Lucille in Carl's direction, then jabbed her in Emmeline's direction. “Her kid! Her kid sister. Where the fuck is she?!”

Rick's head swiveled from Negan to Emmeline a few times. It was dawning on him that something was going on here and he had no clue what it was. But he was willing to bet that Negan's visit to the girls' house six months ago hadn't been random chance.

He took a risk and stood, approaching Negan so he could talk quietly, not wanting to upset the too fragile Emmeline. “There was an incident.”

“An incident? What the hell kind of motherfucking incident?”

“Keep your voice down,” he glanced significantly at Em. “An elderly lady died. We think she had a stroke. Addy visited with her most days after school. When she went to visit her that day, Mrs. Johanssen had turned. She killed Adelaide before any of us could get there.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Negan felt it like a kick to the gut. It felt hard to breath at the thought that sassy little Addy was gone, ripped apart by some fucking old lady corpse. “How long ago?”

“What?”

“How. Fucking. Long. Ago. Was. This?”

“Four months.”

Negan jerked Lucille up and out as if to swing her. Rick flinched back before he could stop himself, expecting the barbwire-wrapped bat to come at his head. “Go sit the fuck back down,” Negan ordered.

_Four months. Four fucking months._ Four months of letting Emmeline turn her self into a barely functioning skeleton. He'd sent those girls here to be safe and taken care of, and these motherfuckers had let the little one die and were letting the other one slowly kill herself.

Jesus fucking Christ absolutely _nothing_ was going the way it was supposed to today.

Negan glared at Rick. “I came here today to remind you of the fucking new world order!” He grinned wolfishly, “But there's been a fucking change of plans! Instead, I'm going to do you a goddamned favor.” He turned to Dwight, “Get him up here.”

Dwight grabbed Spencer by the back of his shirt and hauled him forward. He then pushed him back to his knees at Negan's feet. Spencer's eyes were round as saucers in his white face.

“Wait! What are you -”

“Shut up, dickhead!” Negan looked out at his captive audience, “Your boy here approached me with a proposition earlier today.”

Spencer frantically shook his head, denying the charge. “No! I was just -”

“Hey, I said shut the fuck up!” Negan brushed Lucille across Spencer's cheek. Two bloody streaks bloomed, causing Spencer to scream and clutch his hands to his face.

“He thinks this place should be under new management. His! And all he needs is for me to take care of a problem for him. You!” he pointed Lucille at Rick. “And then he's going to be my very best fucking friend.”

“No! I -” This time Negan kicked him, knocking him flat to the ground.

“Get him on his feet,” Negan ordered. He handed Lucille to one of his men and removed his knife from his belt. “See, the thing is, I may not like Rick but he's got guts and I admire that. You? You've got no guts. You are fucking gutless.”

He pulled his arm back and swept the knife out in a sweeping arc. Negan had warned his men ahead of time to stop anyone who tried to intervene. As Spencer collapsed to the pavement, clutching at his spilling intestines, Negan looked out over the gathered crowd. There were the usual shocked faces, screams, and tears. Only half a dozen people, Rick and members of his core group, had jumped to their feet. Each had a Savior beside them, with a gun pointed to their head, keeping them in place.

Negan smiled at Rick, “You're fucking welcome.” He took Lucille back and propped her up against his shoulder. “Let's wrap this up, boys.”

Negan strode to where Emmeline knelt. She was no longer looking at the ground, her horrified eyes were fixed on him as he advanced on her. Her white shirt was splashed with Spencer's blood, a diagonal slash of cast off from the knife Negan had swung.

“Time to go, darlin'.” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He switched Lucille to his left hand, crouched down, put his right arm around Em just under her butt, and hefted her over his shoulder. He carried her to his waiting truck and deposited her inside.

“Wait!” Daryl yelled. “Just wait a damn minute!” He tried to get through to Negan's truck but was grabbed by two Saviors by each of his arms. Negan could hear several other protesting as well.

Negan looked at him, an eyebrow raised in disbelief, “What exactly have I done that makes you think you have a say in this?”

“I just want to talk to her.”

Negan studied him briefly, then, “Sure, why the fuck not?”

Daryl jerked his arms free and pushed the Saviors off him. He brushed by Negan and made his way to the truck. He leaned in the open door. Emmeline was seated in the front passenger seat, staring down at her hands which were twisting together anxiously in her lap.

“Em,” he said quietly. “What's going on?”

“I don't know,” she responded dully, not looking up.

“Please don't go. Ya belong here with yer family.”

“Addy was my family. She's gone,” it was a whisper.

“We're yer family, too,” he reminded her.

She shook her head, “Not like Addy. It's not the same.”

Four months of frustration at not being able to break through her grief caught up with him, “Em, ya can't go with him! Look what he just did.” Using his thumb, he reached up and wiped a splash of blood from her cheek. He thrust it in front of her face, “Look what he just did!”

She flinched back a little. Her hands continued to twist together, “I can't...I don't think I can stay here.”

“Running away ain't the answer! Especially not with him!” He reached out and covered her hands with his, forcing hers to be still, “What's goin' on with him and you?”

Emmeline finally picked up her head and stared sightlessly out the truck's windshield. “Addy and I met him once, while were still on the road. He helped us.”

“How? How'd he help ya?” Daryl asked in disbelief.

“He sent us here. He said we'd be safe here.” Her eyes finally met his and it was like staring into two big dark wounds, “But Addy wasn't safe here....because it isn't safe anywhere.”

“Em...”

Her gaze turned out the windshield again, focusing on something in the distance.

“I forgot to tell her Olivia said 'hi'.”

“What?”

“That last day. The day Addy.... Olivia said to tell her 'hi' and I forgot. She died never knowing Olivia thought about her and told her 'hi'.” Her voice broke on the last word.

“Em, fer god's sake -”

“I don't think I can stay here, Daryl,” she repeated softly.

“Okay, time's up, Lover Boy!” Negan interrupted. “Get back in line with the other assholes.”

Dwight grabbed Daryl and yanked him away from the truck, then roughly shoved him toward the other Alexandria residents.

They loaded up into the two trucks they'd brought. Negan rarely did any of the driving, choosing to delegate that task so he could sit back and enjoy the ride, but this time he climbed behind the wheel. With Emmeline sitting in the passenger seat he felt like he needed to be the one in control of the vehicle. Dwight and Simon were left to climb into the backseat of the truck's extended cab.

As they pulled out of Alexandria's gates and headed out for the Sanctuary, Emmeline never looked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done pretty good at updating weekly but I don't think I can keep that up. It'll probably slow down from here on out.


	5. Just Like Bathing a Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, officially AU after Sunday's season 7 premiere. Not that I expected anything different. 
> 
> This chapter is the least edited chapter I've posted. I apologize for any typos/mistakes. Also, I originally intended this chapter to cover several months worth of time. It had its own ideas – it spans four days, ha ha. So I've kind of tossed my outline out the window. It may turn out to be longer than the ten chapters I planned, but I'm not sure a this point. It's already the longest thing I've written in a very, very long time.
> 
> Song lyrics are from Minnie Driver's song The Wire from her 2004 album Everything I've Got in My Pocket.

_And how do you see me?_  
_How do I fit in your hierarchy?_

**Chapter 5**

Negan had no fucking clue what he was going to do. The Sanctuary wasn't any place for Emmeline. Hell, he'd known that the first time he'd met her. And now here she was bad shape and in need of a damn psychiatrist, or at least somebody with a little sensitivity and understanding. Negan was short on both and he knew that too. But he'd let his fucking emotions goad him into doing something stupid and out of character. This was exactly why he didn't get close enough to anyone to feel anything, dammit. And now he was stuck with a woman he had no idea what to do with.

The ride from Alexandria to the Sanctuary was uncomfortable and made in almost complete silence. Dwight and Simon shifted uncomfortably in the backseat but didn't say much, not even to each other. The only time anyone spoke was when Dwight tried to pass up a red bandana.

“Boss?” he questioned nervously. “You want her blindfolded?”

Fuck, he should have thought of that. It was too damn late now, if he was going to do it, it should have been done an hour ago. And there was no fucking way he was letting Dwight know he'd been careless.

“No, I don't want her fucking blindfolded. If I wanted her blindfolded, she'd be fucking blindfolded already,” he snapped.

He doubted it was going to be a problem. While she was looking out the window, her gaze was unfocused and aimed at the point where the road met the grass. She didn't seem to be taking in the route they were traveling. If he put her out of the truck right here, she probably wouldn't be able to find her way back to Alexandria. Not that he thought she'd even try. She'd most likely wait for someone or something to come along and put her out of her misery.

_“But you'll never recover emotionally. You'll waste away from your grief and just sit down under a tree and close your eyes and die. Then you'll turn and get up and wander the earth in a never ending search for human flesh.”_

Jesus Christ, had Addy fucking called it or what?

After that, the rest of the three hour trip back to the Sanctuary was silent. Even Negan didn't feel like filling the silence and he fucking loved the sound of his own voice. Emmeline not only didn't speak, but never even looked up. 

Again he wondered what the fuck he was going to do with her. He was responsible for her now, dammit. Why the hell had he brought her? He couldn't fucking put her at the mercy of the point system, she wouldn't make it. And he couldn't fucking put her in with the wives, they'd rip her apart. He also realized he was reluctant for her to find out about this little harem. For the first time, he felt a little tickle of shame over the four women waiting for him. 

What the fuck was he going to do with her?

He didn't feel the usual surge of relief when the piked corpses surrounding the Sanctuary came into view.

Originally, the Sanctuary had been an industrial factory comprised of the large factory building itself, it's outbuildings, parking lot, and a large grassy yard. Negan thought the yard had been a pathetic attempt to pretty the place up. It hadn't worked, it was fucking depressing, green grass or no. The goddamn apocalypse hadn't helped any.

But who fucking cared if it was pretty when the place was surrounded by a twelve foot high industrial chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire?

Negan and his men had placed metal sheeting, plywood, pallets, and anything else they could find, around the inside of the fence. The corpses were less attracted to it if they couldn't see through the fence. The noise of daily living already drew enough of the fuckers, even with the dead on pikes around the perimeter to help disguise the place. Men went out three times a day to take care of any corpses that got past the pikes and gathered around the fence.

The men guarding the main gate recognized the returning trucks and pulled it open to let them through. Negan drove up to the side of the factory and parked the truck. He climbed out and made his way around to the passenger side. As he did so, the dozen or so men gathered around dropped to their knees. He ignored them as he pulled open Em's door and lifted her out. He set her on the ground then gripped her around the upper arm and pulled her along with him.

He motioned with Lucille for the men to get up, “Get this shit taken care of.” They began to pull supplies from the backs of the two trucks, setting everything on the ground to be sorted.

As he barked orders at his men to get the supplies put away, he became aware of the fact that Em was shivering. The longer he stood there, the more violent her shaking became. It finally occurred to him that it was fucking February and she was wearing short sleeves and no shoes.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he snapped. “Can you fucking morons even take a piss without me there to fucking tell you how to do it? Just get this stuff put away!”

Pulling Emmeline along beside him, he walked fast to the side entrance of the main building. As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, he bent down, wrapped his arm around her legs and hefted her up over his shoulder. Negan turned to his right and headed up the stairs. He took them two at a time all the way up to the fifth floor.

The fifth floor was the top floor of the factory. If the elevators had still worked, a person would have stepped out and found the CEO's secretary's office straight ahead and a large conference room to the right. The only way to get into the CEO's office was through the secretary's. The wives were in what had been the conference room. Negan had taken the outer office for his own and made the inner office his bedroom. All three rooms had a wall of tinted windows that looked out over the back of the factory complex. Negan's bedroom had its own private bathroom and there was another located across from the conference room, which the wives used.

As he pushed open the stairwell door, the door to the wives' room was thrown open. All four of them gathered in the doorway, every one of them talking at the same time. Demands and complaints, most likely. He couldn't fucking hear what they were saying when they did that shit and it annoyed the hell out of him.

Pointing Lucille at them, he simply said “Shut the fuck up, would ya?” He continued by, acting for all the world as if there was nothing unusual about him having a young woman thrown over his shoulder. Or that he was taking her to his bedroom, a place reserved only for him and off limits to the wives.

He strode through the outer office door, kicking it shut behind him. He continued through, angling to the left, to the door which led to his bedroom. There was a corresponding door on the right side of the room which opened into the conference room, but he'd blocked that shit off so none of the wives could use it to bother him in his office.

He fucking loved his bedroom. Upon entering, the wall of windows was to the right. He'd put a table with two chairs in front of it and every morning someone brought him his breakfast and he ate it looking out over the Sanctuary. His bed was to the left, with a night stand on each side. There was a dresser against the wall directly across from doorway. The walls had embossed burgundy wallpaper and classy looking artwork. Classy looking to his untrained eye, anyway. But what the fuck did he know? The carpet was off white and plush. The only jarring feature was the kerosene heater in the middle of the room.

Negan set Emmeline on the edge of the king-sized bed. He propped Lucille against the wall, then knelt in front of her. Gently, he took one of her ice cold feet into his big hands and rubbed it, trying to warm it up.

Her right foot was wet. He pulled his hand away and found it smeared with blood. Grabbing both feet, he pulled her legs up and saw both were filthy and the right one was bleeding from an inch long gash on the pad of her foot.

“Jesus Christ, Em! Why the fuck didn't you say something?”

He let go of her feet again, got up, and stomped into the attached bathroom. The Sanctuary had no electricity and no running water, but his bathroom had a bucket of water by the toilet for flushing and a full basin sitting on the sink for washing. The water basin was old fashioned, white porcelain with blue flowers. The matching pitcher was on the night stand by his bed. He didn't know where the hell the set had come from. It seemed slightly ridiculous that something so fragile had survived the end of the world.

The water in the basin was pretty damn cold and wasn't going to do anything to help warm up her feet, but the cut had to be cleaned before it became infected and no fucking way was she putting those dirty feet in his bed.

He stomped back into the bedroom carrying the water and a bar of soap. He plunked it down on the floor in front of her as he knelt down. Without any warning, he grabbed both of her feet and pushed them down into the water.

She sucked in a sharp breath when her skin hit the cold water and tried to pull them back. Using one big hand to grip both her slim ankles, he held her feet in the water while the other held the soap. He began briskly scrubbing her feet. She stopped trying to pull away so he could use both hands to wash away the blood and dirt. When he was finished, he realized he'd forgotten a towel.

“Keep your feet over the bowl. Don't fucking drip on my carpet,” he ordered as he got up to go grab the towel from the bathroom.

After drying her feet, he rummaged through his dresser and pulled out a long-sleeved thermal shirt. He tossed it at her. “Take off your t-shirt and put this on,” he ordered.

It landed in her lap and she stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“You have fucking blood on your shirt, Em,” he explained impatiently. 

She still didn't move.

“You're not getting in my fucking bed with the gutless wonder's blood all over you!”

Her wounded eyes finally met his. She set the army green thermal on the bed beside her and grasped the hem of her t-shirt to pull it over her head.

Instead of staring at her, he busied himself gathering up the dirty water and wet towel. He did peek out of the corner of his eye and what he saw pissed him off. There was nothing to her. He could make out every rib and her collarbones stood out prominently.

Once everything was cleaned up and put away, he knelt in front of her again. He reached out and rolled the too long sleeves up on each of her arms. “I gotta go make sure those fucking moron's did their jobs with the supplies. Then I'll be back with some food.”

She didn't respond, but a least she was looking at him. He huffed impatiently but bit his tongue. He wanted to reach out and shake her. Or say something cruel to get some kind of reaction out of her. Any kind of reaction.

Instead, he stood and made his way to the door. His hand had just grasped the doorknob when she spoke up.

“Did those men kneel down to you?”

He turned to look at her. “Yeah.”

“Why?” she asked, her bewilderment clear on her face.

“Because I am in fucking charge here, darlin',” he grinned his razor sharp smile at her.

What little interest that had crossed her face disappeared. She looked away from him and her eyes took on that unfocused, inward gaze that she seemed to have perfected.

“I'm going to sleep,” her quiet, faraway voice informed him.

“I'll be back in a little while and then you're going to fucking eat.” He didn't think she was listening anymore. She pulled back the puffy comforter and crawled between the sheets. The blankets were then pulled up over her head. Blocking him out, he figured.

When he returned, she was deeply asleep. He shook her shoulder but she didn't stir. Instead of forcing the issue and making her wake up, he decided to just let her sleep. He knew she needed something to eat, but dealing with her was already turning out to be a big fucking pain in his ass and he had other shit to do.

Negan left a granola bar and a pop-top can of fruit on the night stand beside her. He poured water from the porcelain pitcher into a glass and left that there too. He then retreated to his office with the current inventory list. Dealing with Emmeline could wait.

Trouble was, Emmeline clearly did not want to be dealt with. Over the next couple days, all she did was sleep. There was no goddamn way anybody could sleep as much as she did, so he was pretty sure that she had perfected the art of pretending to be deeply asleep so that he would leave her the fuck alone. 

Eventually, the granola bar and can of fruit were consumed. Never when he was there, however. When he was present in the room, she stayed huddled in the bed asleep, or pretending to be at least. He'd taken to avoiding his own room. If he wasn't out dealing with his men then he was in his office or getting his knob polished by one of the wives.

But he couldn't stay in their fucking room, they drove him fucking nuts. Every one of them was trying to pump him for information about the girl in his bedroom, either because they were jealous or were hoping to expose a weak spot they, or someone else, could exploit.

He'd spent the last three nights creeping into his own goddamn bedroom late at night and slipping into the bed. He kept as far away from her as possible, but when he woke up every morning he found he'd migrated to her side of the bed and was spooned around her. Fucking spooned. And he couldn't fucking tell if she minded or not because she was practically fucking catatonic. Or half fucking dead.

On the third afternoon after bringing Emmeline to the Sanctuary, he decided he'd had enough. She was going to rejoin the living, whether she wanted to or not. 

She never even cracked her eyelids open as three of the kitchen crew made repeated trips through his bedroom, into the bathroom, carrying buckets of heated water. They filled the tub, the only tub in the entire complex, with steaming water. It took three trips to fill it and another to bring a few extra buckets of water to rinse with.

When they were done, he told them to get the fuck out, then approached Emmeline's sleeping form.

He stood by her side of the bed. “Well, we doing this the easy way or the hard way?” he asked her.

She didn't respond. There was no fucking way she was still asleep after all the noise the men had made stomping through the room, bitching about how heavy five gallon buckets of water were.

“The hard fucking way it is, then.”

He grasped the comforter in both hands and yanked it off the bed. He then did the same to the sheet. Em's eyes were wide as she scrambled up into a sitting position.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Enough of this! You're getting the fuck up,” he told her firmly.

“Leave me alone!”

“Rick the Prick and your Redneck Lover Boy have left you alone for months! All that's done is let you half kill yourself.”

“I don't want your help!”

“Too fucking bad!”

He grabbed around her upper arm and pulled her off the bed. As he attempted to tug her toward the bathroom, she allowed her legs to collapse under her. She fell to the floor, half taking him with her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he demanded looking at her incredulously, his hand still gripping her arm. “What are you, six?”

He used his grip on her arm to pull her back up, which wasn't difficult since she didn't weigh much more than eighty pounds. He hefted her over his shoulder and carried her through to the bathroom.

Unlike the other times he'd carried her this way, this time she fought back. Her fists beat against his back while her legs kicked wildly, her knees catching him in the gut several times.

“Put me down, you asshole!” she shrieked. “Leave me alone!”

There was nothing to her and her blows weren't doing any damage. She did have teeth, however, and when he felt them start to close over the flesh of his back he shrugged her off his shoulder, only partially controlling her fall with one arm.

“Jesus Christ, you little hellcat!”

She landed on her backside with a grunt. She glared up at him from her position on the floor. Her face was flushed and her eyes were brimming with anger. “I hate you,” she stated with conviction.

“I don't give a shit. Take your clothes off.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, her face set stubbornly.

“Get in the fucking tub, Emmeline.”

“No.”

She let out an ear piercing scream when his hands closed around her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She got in a good kick to his shin, one that caused her to suck in a pained breath as her toes connected with his leg. As he worked at wrestling her out of his shirt she squirmed, kicked, and scratched. She put him mind of a cat he'd tried to bathe once and he was glad she didn't have any fucking claws. Although, her nails were doing plenty of damage.

He was so engrossed with his struggle with Em that he didn't hear the bathroom door crack open until a voice said quietly, “Um, Negan?”

Both he and Emmeline stilled immediately. Negan turned around slowly, a scowl on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” he asked in an exaggeratedly reasonable voice.

Amber swallowed nervously, “Well, it sounded like somebody was getting murdered in here.” Meg and Kristy stood behind her, craning their necks to see what was going on in the bathroom.

“And you're here to fucking rescue me?” he asked sarcastically. “Any of you bring a fucking weapon?”

“Well, no, but -”

“Are any of you supposed to fucking be in here?” he demanded, his voice raising in volume.

“No, but -”

“Then get the fuck out!” he yelled. 

Meg and Kristy both made a hasty retreat, but Amber, always one to push her luck, asked “Why does she get a bath? I want a bath!”

“Get out!” he roared.

“Okay, okay, jeez!” she turned and hurried after the others.

He turned around to face Em. Her eyes were wide as she stared after the barely dressed, lingerie clad women.

“Who were they?” she asked, shocked.

“My wives,” he said shortly.

“Wives? You have three wives?” she asked in disbelief.

“Four. Sherry was smart enough to stay in their room.” Or possibly just didn't give a damn.

“You have four wives?”

“Yes,” he huffed.

“You have _four_ wives?”

“Jesus Christ. Yes!”

“Why?” she sounded bewildered now.

Normally, he'd respond _Because I can_ or _Why the fuck not?_ This time, however, he said, “I don't fucking know.”

He reached out and grasped the hem of her shirt. She allowed him to pull it over her head. Once it was off she quickly covered her breasts with her arms.

“Please,” he scoffed. “I am not looking at you, you fucking bag of bones.”

“Why would you need to?” she shot back, “You have four wives.”

He crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. 

“Turn your back,” she insisted.

“I told you, I am not interested in your emaciated body.”

“Turn around anyway!”

“Fuck! Fine!” He turned around and listened to the sounds of her shedding her clothes, then the gentle splashing of the water as she settled herself in the tub.

When Negan turned back around, she was sitting in the bathtub with her knees drawn up to her chest. He knelt down on the floor, grabbed a plastic cup from the edge of the tub, and used it to pour warm water over her hair and back. Once her long strawberry blond hair was soaked through, he worked a handful of shampoo through it, then rinsed it with one of the buckets.

“You've got ten fucking minutes to do the rest. Or I'll do it for you,” he threatened as he stood and then exited the bathroom.

Two minutes before her ten minutes were up, Emmeline appeared in the doorway wrapped in a towel. He pointed toward a pile of clothes on the bed.

She seemed like the granny panty type, so he'd grabbed a pair from the commissary. He'd also found a pair of gray sweatpants that he thought would fit her. They were a fucking girls' size, instead of women's. Another one of his thermal shirts topped the pile.

“Get dressed.” He pointed at the table, “Then you're fucking eating.”

He didn't wait for her to start arguing, just turned his back on her and sat down at the table. She joined him a few minutes later, slipping quietly into the second chair at the table. As soon as she sat down he started shoveling the food on the plate in front of him into his mouth. She picked up her fork and used it to unenthusiastically push her own food around her plate.

“Just fucking eat it, Em,” he ordered impatiently.

“I don't like beef ravioli. And this is canned, that's even worse.”

“It's the fucking apocalypse! I don't care if you don't fucking like it, just eat it goddammit!”

Emmeline's already pale face lost what little color it had. He had no clue why this order appeared to upset her so much when so many others had rolled off her back. She did what he told her, however, and stabbed a ravioli and put it in her mouth. She was obviously struggling to chew and swallow it, but she managed it, then stabbed another.

Negan waited until she'd forced herself to eat half of the food in front of her before asking a question he'd wondered about since he first saw her.

“How old are you?”

She looked at him, surprised. “Twenty-five.”

Now he was the one who was surprised, “You look younger.”

She shrugged, “I get that a lot.”

“How old was Addy?”

Her fork clattered loudly as it hit her plate when she dropped it. Her shoulders hunched as if she'd just absorbed a blow.

“Eleven,” was the quiet answer.

“Fourteen year age gap between kids? What did your parents -”

Emmeline stood up so fast her chair tipped over backwards. “I'm not eating anymore,” she said forcefully. 

She retreated back to the bed. The covers were quickly pulled up over her head, blocking him out again.

_Well, fuck_ , he thought. 

Negan shoveled the rest of his dinner into his mouth, then pushed the plate away. He left the table and approached the bed.

Em was curled on her side, just a small lump under the thick comforter. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. Carefully, he peeled back the blankets until he'd exposed her face. She looked at him warily, as if expecting him to yank her from the bed again. “Do you blame me?” he asked.

“What?” she asked, clearly startled by his question. She pushed herself up and propped herself against the headboard. 

“For Addy. Do you fucking blame me for what happened?”

“No! Why would I blame you? You weren't even there!”

“I sent you there. I told you that your little sister would be safe there. I didn't let you come here.” It bothered him, more than he'd normally be willing to admit, that Addy had died. It had been a long fucking time since anybody dying had affected him at all. People died all the fucking time, a lot of them by his hand, and it was just another fucking tool to use to get what he wanted. He wasn't used to fucking giving a shit.

She reached out and stroked her fingers lightly down his bearded cheek. “I don't blame you. I'm still grateful that you sent us to Alexandria. Addy and I were happy there.”

He pulled away from her like her touch burned. Deep inside, it did. It burned something he thought long gone. He strode across the room to the door, and as he jerked it open, he heard her quiet voice.

“Do you blame yourself?”

He didn't answer and the door slammed shut behind him.


	6. Growing Dead Grass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics at the beginning of the fic are from Minnie Driver's song The Wire from her 2004 album Everything I've Got in My Pocket. Lyrics in the fic are from Easy Street by The Collapsable Hearts Club.
> 
> Sorry this took so long. Real life has spent the last two months kicking me around. This chapter is probably the least edited one I've posted but I just wanted to get it out. And this story has a mind of its own as to where it's going. I seem to have very little control over it....

_Oh, you tell the girls line up in single file_   
_Just gotta rearrange my denial_   
_That now I play with you_

**Chapter 6**

Emmeline woke up several mornings later with Negan's body pressed up against her back and one of his arms thrown over her. This was how she'd woken up every morning since he'd brought her here. She was usually awake, just pretending not to be, when he crept into the bed late at night. He always started out as far away from her as he could get, but soon after he relaxed into sleep he'd make his way over to her side of the bed.

The more she learned about him and how he lived, the more surprised she was that he had her here at all, let alone that he was willing to sleep wrapped around her. She knew she should be afraid of him. She shouldn't trust that he wouldn't hurt her. But she wasn't and she did. Even now, she still couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that he'd done the awful things everyone said he'd done. While she'd witnessed his violence, she'd had a front row seat to his killing of Spencer after all, she still hadn't seen that thing about him that terrified her friends so much or put his own men on their knees in front of him.

Mostly, it was just nice to sleep next to another person again. In the four months since Addy had died she'd forgotten how reassuring it was to have someone else there during the long nights. Not that sleeping in the same bed with Negan was anything like sleeping with Addy's fierce kicking, spastic jerking, and alligator rolling. 

For as much time as she had been spending in bed, Emmeline had a hard time actually sleeping. Addy's face was always there behind her eyelids. Her tiny, red face right after her birth, her chubby toddler cheeks, the bright, curious face of a kindergartner, the sharp features and freckles of a tween on the verge of leaving childhood behind. But she'd found that Negan's presence in the bed made it easier to let go of her grief, if only temporarily, and actually give in to sleep.

The fact that he pumped off enough body heat to be her own personal furnace was nice too. The kerosene heater that sat in the middle of the room wasn't up to the job of heating an area this big. It was probably only managing to warm the room to around fifty degrees.

Negan groaned softly as he came awake. She could feel the moment when he became aware of the fact that he was wrapped around her. He jerked his arm back and started to roll away. Em quickly reached behind her and grabbed his arm, bringing it back over her side.

“It's okay,” she told him quietly.

He relaxed against her, tightened his arm around her, and pressed his nose into the hair covering the back of her neck.

“Yeah?” he rumbled in a voice roughened by sleep. “What about this? This okay?” he asked as he pressed his morning erection against her backside.

She craned her head around to look at him with wide eyes, “But you said...”

His hips thrust gently against her backside and his hand slid up to cup her breast, “I said what?” he rumbled.

“That you weren't interested!”

“That's not what I said.”

She laughed, “Yes it is! That is _exactly_ what you said.”

“Well, that was three goddamn days ago.” He nuzzled her neck, then her ear. “So. You wanna?”

“No!”

“Fine,” he huffed and rolled away from her. He left the bed and headed for the door, not bothering to get dressed.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

“To find one of my fucking wives! Ha! Get it? _Fucking_ wives.” The door slammed shut behind him.

“Oh,” Em said quietly to herself.

She got up and went into the bathroom. She relieved her bladder then washed her hands and face using the water in the basin on the counter. Negan had scrounged up a hairbrush from somewhere and she used it work the tangles out of her hair.

When she came out of the bathroom, two guys from the kitchen were setting breakfast on the table. They were the same two men who'd been bringing meals for as long as she'd been here. This morning there was the usual crappy instant coffee, along with thick slices of ham and scrambled eggs.

“Wow! Ham,” she commented. This was the first time she'd tried to interact with anyone besides Negan.

Both men immediately looked nervous. They shared a look, then the younger man, probably only around twenty, tall and skinny, spoke up, “Yeah, yesterday was a collection day. The ham's from The Kingdom and the eggs are fresh from the Hilltop.”

His companion elbowed him in the side, shaking his head significantly at him. They both made a hasty retreat out of the room before, she assumed, she could try to talk to them again.

She sat down and began to pick at the food on her plate. She was still rarely hungry, her stomach had been almost constantly upset for months. Negan now ate every meal with her and wasn't satisfied unless she ate something every time. He'd taken to distracting her with questions, about her daily life in the Alexandria Safe Zone or her likes and dislikes before the world fell apart, hoping she'd eat without noticing. It worked sometimes, to take her mind off Addy long enough to get something in her stomach. She tried to be careful about how much information she gave him about her friends and Alexandria, she didn't want anything she told him to be used against them. And discussion of her life pre-apocalypse was a minefield of potentially grief filled memories.

Negan returned a few minutes later. He retreated to the bathroom for a little while, then dressed, and joined her for breakfast.

“Did you tell the kitchen guys not to talk to me?” she asked.

“You tried to talk to them?”

“Yes. It made them very nervous.”

He laughed. “Well, my men are supposed to keep conversation with my wives to a minimum.”

“I'm not one of your wives,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but nobody can figure out what the fuck you are so they're playing it safe.” He watched her push the scrambled eggs around her plate for a little while, then said, “I've got a good question for today.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“What did you do for a living?”

“You want to know about my job?”

“Hell, yes. Maybe you've got some fucking useful skills that the Sanctuary could use.”

“No,” she said firmly.

“What the fuck do you mean _no_?” he demanded, frowning.

“I don't want to talk about my old job. It wasn't useful.”

“Okay, fine. But what the fuck was it?”

“I'm not telling.” She looked carefully at his face, checking to see if he was angry. She forgot sometimes that he wasn't a person you could just say _no_ to. That he'd killed people for less.

She thought he actually looked intrigued. Groaning inwardly, she realized he wasn't going let it go.

“Was it fucking embarrassing or something?”

“No! I just don't want to talk about it.” She added, “Please.”

“Fine. But in return you gotta answer my next question.”

She was afraid it was going to be a question about Addy, even though he hadn't asked about her since their first meal together, or something important about Alexandria, but nodded.

“What did your parents do?”

“Now you're asking me what my parents' jobs were?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“That kind of stuff doesn't even matter anymore,” she pointed out.

“It might. So. What did your dad do?”

She blew out a breath, “Baptist minister.”

“And your mother?”

“Baptist minister's wife.”

“Yeah, that shit matters. That just told me every fucking thing I need to know about you.”

“It does not!” But she was worried it did. Or at least it told him a lot more about her than she wanted him to understand.

His distracting conversation had worked, she'd eaten most of the scrambled eggs and managed a little of the ham. She hadn't touch the coffee, as usual. And as usual, he downed her's as well as his.

When he left the bedroom to go do whatever it was he did all day, Em slouched down in her chair and stared out the windows. The view wasn't great, just a large swath of grass and a big fence. She supposed when this place was up and running, and the lawn was cared for and lush, this had been the best view in the complex.

That patch of brown grass was something of a mystery to Emmeline. It was the only spot, as far as she could tell, that wasn't covered in blacktop. So why in the world wasn't it being used to grow something besides tall grass and weeds? Yes, it was February, maybe March by now, but there was no evidence that the Saviors were utilizing that area for anything, ever. No crops, no livestock.

Alexandria worked hard toward self-sufficiency. Maggie extended the gardens every chance she got. Besides the large communal garden, she'd insisted everyone should have a garden patch of their own. When Emmeline had left Alexandria, a greenhouse was in the final stages of completion, with a least one more planned. They had traded with the Hilltop for livestock and were working on a breeding program to have enough animals to provide for themselves. Daryl and Aaron kept a look out on all their trips for loose livestock that might be surviving in the wild. They'd managed to bring back a couple of chickens from one of their outings not long ago. 

She'd seen no evidence of any of that here at the Sanctuary. She might have seen a few raised beds along the side of the factory building when Negan brought her in, but that seemed to be the extent of the Saviors' gardening endeavors. 

Some teenage boys, who appeared to be at loose ends all the time, used the lawn occasionally to throw or kick around a ball. She'd seen them there at all hours of the day. From what she could tell, they didn't go to school or have any responsibilities.

This morning, however, it was not just the usual four or five teenage boys playing games. This time they seemed to be in pursuit of a young girl, whom Emmeline was guessing was somewhere around eight years old. She was much smaller and slower than the boys. They quickly had her surrounded and the biggest boy ripped something from her hands before shoving her hard to the ground. The boys walked off laughing, divvying up the small loaf of bread they'd taken from her and wolfing it down. 

The girl sat on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Emmeline imagined she could see the girl's shoulders shaking.

She glanced behind her at the box of granola bars Negan had put on the bedside table. From what little she knew about how the Sanctuary operated, she doubted that girl was getting any more bread to eat this morning. She looked back at the miserable little huddled figure and, her mind made up, she got up and grabbed a bar from the box, then headed across the room to the door.

She opened the door, just a crack, and pressed her eye to it, looked for Negan. The office was empty, so she made her way quietly across it. Once she was to the door that lead to the hallway, she again cracked it open and looked carefully to make sure it was deserted. She tiptoed out into the hall on sock clad feet. The door to the wives' room was pulled most of the way shut, so as long as she was quiet she thought she could slip by with no one noticing.

Getting across the hallway was no problem, but the stairwell door made a ton of noise when she pushed it open. She let it slam behind her and bolted down the steps, hoping the wives were as lazy as Negan claimed and wouldn't investigate. She imagined she heard the fifth floor door open above her, but she wasn't sure and she was already two flights down and they couldn't see her anyway. She ran down the remaining stairs until she hit the ground floor.

She stood and listened for the sounds of anyone pursuing her from upstairs. She heard nothing from the stairwell and was confident no one was pursuing her. While she quietly waited, she realized she could hear strangely upbeat music coming from somewhere deep inside the building on the first floor. “We're on easy street, and it feels so sweet, cos the world is but a treat when you're on easy street..”

She cautiously approached the outside door. She pushed the door open and walked out confidently. She figured everyone was going to be as cautious as the kitchen help. They weren't sure what the hell her status was and, most likely, wouldn't question what she was doing since there was a good chance she was one of Negan's wives, or possibly something more important. Nobody was going to risk pissing Negan off by interfering with her. She hoped, anyway.

She made her way swiftly around the side of the building and headed for the little girl still sitting on the dead grass. Em found herself staring down at the small girl and suddenly felt like she'd been kicked in the chest. The brown-haired girl looked nothing like Addy but it didn't matter.

She tried to take a deep breath and asked, “Are you alright?”

The girl looked up. Tears falling from big, brown eyes had made clean tracks down her dirty cheeks. Her nose was running and she rubbed her sleeve across it in an attempt to wipe off the snot. She only managed to smear it around.

“I'm fine!” was her belligerent reply.

Emmeline deeply regretted coming down here. Talking to this girl was a mistake. It made her chest feel tight and her head scream. She wanted to crawl back into Negan's bed and pull the covers up over her head.

“Okay. Here.” She thrust the granola bar at the girl, holding it out for her to take.

The girl eyed her suspiciously, “What?”

Em shook the wrapped snack in her hand, “It's a granola bar.” She gestured towards the fifth floor windows with it, “I saw those boys knock you down and take your bread. So I brought you a granola bar.”

The child still looked suspicious, and a little disbelieving, but cautiously reached out and took the granola bar. Em breathed a sigh of relief and turned to go.

“Wait, lady!” she called, “Are you the new wife?”

“No!” Em denied vehemently as she turned back around, “Is that what people are saying?”

All she got was a shrug as the kid ripped open the granola bar and stuffed a large bite into her mouth.

“Well, I'm not.” Emmeline stated firmly. The girl barely chewed before she swallowed and then shoved more into her mouth. “You're going to choke,” Emmeline warned.

The child was obviously unconcerned about choking as she continued to stuff huge bites of chocolate chunk granola bar into her mouth. 

“What's your name?” The question was asked around a mouthful of food.

“Emmeline, Em for short. What's yours?”

“Natalie. Nat for short.”

“Well, it was nice to meet you, I guess.” Emmeline started to walk away again, eager to get away from Natalie and the memories she brought up.

“Do you want to meet my dad?” Nat called after her. She was standing now, her head tipped to one side as she studied Em.

Emmeline stopped and turned around again. She shook her head, “I should get back. I didn't tell anyone I was going out.”

“Nobody'll miss you then.” Natalie charged up to her and grabbed her hand. “It'll only take a minute!” she assured her as she pulled sharply on Em's arm.

Natalie pulled her along around the side of the building. Em allowed it, didn't try to break away even though she wanted too. She wasn't sure why she was going along with it. She didn't want to spend one more minute with this little girl or meet her father. And, as Nat seemed to be leading her toward the front gates, she was also worried about getting in trouble for being out here. Negan had never said she couldn't leave his bedroom, but he'd never said she could either. And walking up to the front gates of the place didn't seem like a good idea.

Luckily, there weren't many people out here, the cold was keeping them inside where it was warmer. Emmeline wished she had a coat and something more than socks on her feet. “Look, kid...” she started to object.

“Almost there!” She angled them away from the front gates.

They were almost to the fence at the front of the complex, pretty far down from the main gate. There wasn't anyone here at this portion of fence. “Is your dad on guard duty or something?” she asked, slowing despite Nat's tugging. This didn't seem right.

“Yeah, Negan's orders.”

Natalie lead her to a gap between two pieces of metal sheeting that lined the fence. She pointed, “He's right there.”

Emmeline pressed her face against the metal and looked through the chain link fence. All she saw were piked corpses in varying states of decay. “I don't see anyone.”

“There!” 

Emmeline glanced down at the girl's pointing finger and followed its trajectory with her eyes.

He wasn't fresh but he wasn't the most decomposed corpse out there. It was still possible to tell he'd had dark hair, been tall and strong. He was piked through his lower left side and out through the join of his neck and right shoulder. He and the other walkers snapped and clawed ineffectively at the air.

“That's your dad?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

Natalie didn't answer. Emmeline finally tore her eyes away from the dead and looked down into the hard, grown up eyes of the little girl beside her.

“You're nice. You shouldn't be a wife,” the girl told her. “He's a bad man.” Then she turned and ran off.

Emmeline watched the little girl until she was out of sight, then made her way slowly back to the factory building. None of the few people that she passed tried to talk to her or stop her. She simply walked as if she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

In sharp contrast to her outward calm, inside she was a roiling mess. The nausea that had been her constant companion for months exploded and came racing up her throat. She steadied herself with one hand against the factory building as she lost the breakfast that Negan had worked so hard to get her to eat.

When she was done throwing up she pushed the door open and made her way back up the stairs. She went slowly, thinking about the kind of man who piked a little girl's father where she could see him every day.

She pushed the door open to the fifth floor and walked through it. In the doorway to the wives' room stood a young woman Emmeline hadn't met yet. The fourth wife, Sherry, she guessed. Her expression was...hopeless, Em thought.

“You shouldn't leave his room,” Sherry cautioned her quietly.

“Why?” Em asked, just as quiet.

“If he didn't tell you to leave the room, you shouldn't leave it.” It made Emmeline wonder, again, what kind of man Negan really was if his _wife_ was trying to warn her about him.

“I'm not a prisoner,” Emmeline told her firmly.

“Yes, you are. We all are.” Sherry turned to go back into the room behind her.

“Wait!” Em called out to her.

Sherry turned back around to face her but glanced nervously at the stairwell door.

“I met a little girl outside,” Emmeline explained. “Her name is Natalie. Her dad is one of the corpses out front. She said Negan did that.”

Sherry nodded but didn't offer any additional information.

“Why....why would he do that?” Em asked, hesitantly, because she wasn't sure she really wanted to hear the answer.

“Because he wanted to leave.” Sherry stared at her hard for a moment, “He was alive when they put the pike through him and put him out there. Negan said if he didn't want the protection of the Sanctuary, he was welcome to be outside of it.” She turned disappeared in the wives' room, closing the door behind her.

Emmeline was glad her stomach was already empty.

She wandered back through Negan's office and into the bedroom that had been her home for the last week. She stared at the bed and thought hard about climbing back into it, pulling the blankets over her head and shutting everything out.

Instead, she walked back into Negan's office and sat at his desk. She found a notebook, and a pen, and began to write.


	7. Earning Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....here we are, almost a year later. A little writer's block followed by life deciding to pummel me (repeatedly) lead to no writing getting done. Hopefully, it won't be another year until I update again.
> 
> I probably didn't do a great job of proofreading because I just wanted to get it posted. 
> 
> Just a reminder, this story went AU after the end of season 6 - Alexandria is still under Negan's thumb and has been for months.

**Chapter 7**  
_And now I see all the shit that isn't me  
I'm too relieved to be mad, relieved and sad_

“I hear you were outside today,” Negan's tone was casual. Emmeline couldn't tell if he was angry or not. She wished she could figure out from his voice what was coming next, but he was damn talented at keeping her guessing about what his reaction was going to be.

“Yes,” she kept her head down, staring at her plate as she pushed her dinner around with her fork.

“You gonna fucking tell me about it?” there was a hint of bite to his question.

“I went outside. Gave a kid a granola bar. Walked around. Came back inside.” She knew lying wasn't an option. Obviously somebody had been paying attention to her and reporting to him.

“The kid trade you any points for that fucking granola bar?”

“Do little kids earn points?”

“No. That's not the fucking point,” he told her sharply.

“Obviously it is.”

“Parents earn points and have to use them to provide for their precious crotchfruit. There is a fucking system here, Emmeline.”

“How do I fit in your system? I'm not earning any points and you're feeding me,” she gestured at the plate of pork and potatoes in front of her.

“Well now, darlin', as the person who is in fucking charge here I get to decide who works for points and who doesn't.” He stared at her pointedly and snapped, “A little fucking gratitude would be nice.”

“You want me to be grateful that you brought me here without asking and then didn't throw me to the mercy of your crappy system?” _Oh, my god, Em! Shut your mouth!_ she thought to herself.

“You want me to take you back to the assholes who let your kid sister die? Who almost let you kill yourself? What, you miss your fucking redneck and Rick the Prick?!” He was shouting and he'd left his seat. Negan grabbed the arms of her chair and leaned his face close to her's, “Let's fucking go then, Em!”

All the color had left her face and she shrank back in the chair as far as she could go. She shook her head without speaking.

He stared at her wide eyes for a moment, his face twisted and vicious, then he let go of her chair and stormed out.

He didn't come back. Not that night or the next morning. Em slept, badly, in the big bed by herself. She dreamed about Addy. 

Addy alive, Addy dying, Addy a walker.

She gave up on sleep early that morning. She was already dressed, in sweatpants and Negan's thermal, when breakfast was brought in. Only one plate, so Negan had informed them he wasn't eating with her. The tall young man was by himself today. After putting her plate on the table, he slipped a backpack off one shoulder and held it out to her.

It was her's. From Alexandria. The one she'd been carrying since the world fell apart. Daryl must have packed it and sent it, she thought.

She took it in two hands and hugged it to her chest, “What's your name?”

“I don't think I'm supposed to talk to you,” he said nervously.

“I'm not trying to have a conversation here. I just don't want to have call you “Hey You”.”

“It's Tim.”

“I'm Emmeline.” He turned and fled before she could say anything else. 

She shrugged. _Oh well._

Em put her pack on the table and started to dig through it. Her sneakers were on top. _Thank God,_ she thought. No more sock feet in February. It was mostly clothes, a few trinkets she loved, and at the very bottom a blurry, gray picture of Addy. She looked at it for only a moment before carefully placing it at the bottom of the bag again and putting everything back on top.

Breakfast was two pieces of thick toast and scrambled eggs. She took a few bites of the eggs and then forced herself to eat one of the pieces of toast. The rest she covered with the cloth napkin Tim had put next to her plate.

She slid her feet into the sneakers and grabbed a hoodie from the backpack. After pulling it on, she grabbed the plate of food and headed out of the bedroom. 

While Negan had obviously not been pleased about her outing yesterday, he hadn't actually said she couldn't leave the bedroom. She strolled through his office and out into the hallway as if it was perfectly okay.

The door to the wives' room was wide open but Emmeline just kept walking and by the time they noticed her and got to the doorway, she was pushing the stairwell door open. As soon as she was through the door, she raced down the steps, not wanting any of Negan's harem to catch up to her.

Once she was outside, she realized finding Natalie was probably not going to be easy. She had no idea where the little girl lived or who she lived with. As she walked, she looked the Sanctuary over with an eye to its sustainability. Her first impressions had been right – no livestock, no crops, no efforts toward producing what they needed themselves. It appeared that Negan's plan was to continue maintaining the Sanctuary by forcing other communities to do all the work.

Instead of wandering around looking for the dark haired little girl, Emmeline made her way back to the section of fence Natalie had taken her to yesterday. She set the plate she'd been carrying down on the ground and then stepped right up against the fence. She peered out through the gap in the sheet metal at the walkers piked outside. Were they all like Natalie's dad, once living residents of the Sanctuary? Or was if someone's job to catch walkers and put them out there?

If she pissed Negan off enough, was that where she'd end up? Would she care?

In the first days and weeks after Addy died, her friends had been so worried about what she might do that they'd removed anything and everything from the house that she could possibly use to hurt herself. They'd stayed with her in shifts so she was never alone. One night, her babysitter, she had no recollection of who it was, had fallen asleep. Em had quietly padded out of the house on bare feet. She'd made her way through the quiet, dark streets of Alexandria. The late fall air was chilly and she'd been shivering by the time she'd made it to the front gate. It had been her bad luck that Daryl was on guard duty at the front wall. Someone else might not have immediately recognized her intention as he had. She'd gotten the gate pulled open enough to squeeze through by the time he'd gotten off the wall to the ground. He was on her so fast she doubted she'd gotten more than ten steps outside the wall before he'd dragged her back in, kicking and screaming.

“What are you doing?” Natalie's voice pulled her back from her memories.

“Thinking about my friends.”

“Are they like my daddy?” She gestured at the walkers on the other side of the fence.

“No. They're alive.”

“Maybe Negan will make them like my daddy.”

Emmeline wanted to deny that could happen, but knew it would be a lie. And knew Natalie would know it was a lie too. “Maybe,” she agreed.

“What's that?” The child's attention switched to the plate on the ground.

“It's for you.”

After pulling off the napkin and discovering the plate contained food, Natalie sat on the ground and ate the scrambled eggs with her hands. Emmeline doubted the girl would have used a fork even if she'd remembered to bring one because it would have slowed her down. Once the eggs were consumed, Natalie grabbed the piece of toast and, leaving the plate on the ground, hopped up and said, “C'mon!” and darted off.

“Where?” Em questioned as she followed.

“To meet my mom.”

Emmeline stopped. “Is your mom like your dad?” Em wasn't interested in a repeat of yesterday's reveal.

“No! She's fine, dumby.”

Emmeline once again found herself being pulled along behind Natalie through the grounds of the Sanctuary. This time their destination turned out to be a group of storage sheds located in the complex's southeast corner. Skinny, dirty children ran around here. An elderly man and a younger man with only one leg sat around a fire burning in a metal trash can. Women, ranging in age from teenagers to middle age, were washing laundry outside in large metal tubs over fires. Still others were hanging the clean clothes and sheets on lines out in the frigid air.

Natalie ducked through a heavy blanket that hung to cover the entrance to the larger shed. Em followed her through and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she heard Nat say, “That's my mom. Mom, this is Em. She says she is NOT Negan's wife.”

Nat's mom was tall and thin, around forty Em guessed. She looked tired, but Emmeline also thought she might be the most determined looking person she'd every seen. This was someone who did whatever needed to be done and with the minimum amount of fuss. She was in constant motion, moving around the shed as she worked.

While the expression on her face wasn't exactly welcoming, she didn't order Em, the maybe/maybe not wife of the man who'd killed her husband, to leave.

In fact, instead, she asked if Em was hungry. Em declined anything to eat but took a seat on the floor next to an elderly woman who turned out to be Nat's great-grandma. Her gnarled fingers were knitting what Em guessed was a hat.

It was obvious that the people here were at the bottom of the Sanctuary totem pole. Women on their own with children, several elderly people, and men wounded badly enough they struggled to work. They couldn't do the type of work that provided a room and enough food to eat, like scavenging or guard duty. The people here did laundry, took in mending, did knitting from yarn made and brought from Hilltop. Any odd job that earned a few points and brought in a little food. Em overheard a conversation between to two young mothers that lead her to believe they were turning tricks in exchange for food, supplies, and points. They shared whatever they could earn in an effort to keep everybody alive.

“You can't just sit there. Even if you're not staying. Everybody contributes what they can,” Nat's mother stood in front of her, hands on hips.

“Okay,” Em said easily. “I can knit. Got more needles and yarn?”

The woman marched away and was back a few seconds later with a pair of knitting needles and some off-white, undyed wool. “Here.”

“What should I make?”

“Hats, scarves, mittens, and socks are all good.”

“I'm Emmeline, by the way.”

“Erin.”

Em cast on a enough stitches to make a nice sized scarf and began knitting while she observed the camaraderie around her. It reminded her of Alexandria, everyone working together and contributing what they could for the community. Sitting next to Erin's grandmother, on the floor in a drafty shed, she felt better than she had in a long time. She wondered why the closeness of this little community was so comforting when it had given her no solace back in Alexandria.

She stayed for hours, until Erin began scraping together what food she could for a midday meal. Emmeline didn't want them to feel like they had to share any of their meager supplies with her, so she stood up and quietly told Erin she was leaving.

“You're coming back, right?” Natalie questioned.

“Sure. I'll bring back the scarf when I finish it.”

Carrying the ball of yarn, needles, and scarf-in-progress, Em made her way back through the grounds to the side door of the main building. She climbed the steps, tiptoed past the wives' room, and slipped back into Negan's bedroom.

She needn't have worried about sneaking back in. He was sitting at the table, with lunch, waiting for her.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“Out.”

“Emmeline, this is the last fucking time I'm going to ask you. _Where the fuck have you been?_

“Or what, exactly? Are you going to bash my head in? Hook me to your walker fence? Send me home?” Emmeline decided her own mouth was trying to kill her. There was no other explanation for why she continued to argue with him when she knew she ought to just shut the hell up.

This time he didn't say anything. Just stared are her with a look of such twisted malevolence that she looked away, down at her feet, then offered with a heavy sigh, “I visited the kid I met yesterday. Met her mom.” She held up the partially knitted scarf, “Started knitting a scarf.”

He abruptly relaxed, leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. “You knit? That's kinda fucking hot. Goddamn, I like that shit.”

His change in mood was such a relief that she laughed a little, “You're weird.”

“Put that down and go wash your hands. I'm fucking starving here.”

Em set the knitting project down on the bedside table, then went and washed her hands in the basin of water. She came back and as she approached the table, she asked, “Where did my pack come from?”

“Your redneck boyfriend brought it.” He was watching her reaction closely.

“Daryl was here?” her throat felt tight, but she tried to sound unaffected.

“Sure fucking was.”

Emmeline didn't continue the conversation any farther. She picked up one of the slightly stale chips on her plate and popped it into her mouth.

“What's that shit you left on my desk?”

“It's a list of vegetables and a drawing of how to lay a garden out in that big yard,” she gestured toward the window.

“I don't need that fucking shit. Why should I grow a fucking garden when I've got people to do that shit for me?”

Em shrugged her shoulders, “Self-sufficiency isn't a bad thing.”

“I am all kinds of self-sufficient.”

“The gasoline isn't going to last forever. It's going to get harder and harder to travel between communities. You're going to run out of bullets. Both of those things are going to make it harder for you to control the other communities. Eventually, there isn't going to be anything left to scavenge. Growing your own crops, raising your own livestock, producing your own goods is going to be important. And you're not doing any of that here.”

“Well, aren't you just a fucking Debbie Downer.”

She should have known he wouldn't take her suggestions seriously. He was so sure, so supremely confident, that he could stay at the top and force everyone to do the work for him that there was no way he was going to listen to her warning.

“Okay, here's the question for today,” he said, changing the subject. “What happened to your parents?”

Emmeline's relationship with her overly strict, emotionally distant parents had been rocky. The only reason she'd maintained that relationship was because of Addy. But it didn't actually bother her to talk about them so she allowed herself to be drawn into the conversation.

“My dad was sure the government was going to fix the outbreak. If we just hunkered down, his exact words by the way, and waited it out, the authorities would swoop in and put everything right.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Em took a bite of her sandwich, swallowed, then added, “I had my own place but when things went bad, I went home. He wouldn't leave. I couldn't convince him we needed to get out of the city. So we stayed. No electricity, no running water, no air conditioning. Three weeks in we were running out of food. He wouldn't scavenging because he considered it stealing.”

“So what the fuck happened?”

“Looters broke into the house. He confronted them, tried to stop them. They killed him, then my mom.” She took another bite of the bacon and tomato sandwich.

“So how'd you and Addy survive?”

“Our rooms were connected by a little crawl space between our closets. We hid in there. All that day and the night, to be sure they were gone. By then my parents had turned. They were the first dead I ever put down.”

“Jesus Christ, doll.”

She shrugged. “Other people have had to deal with worse,” she was thinking of Carl, who'd put down the mother he'd loved and Daryl, who'd had to put down his brother.

“Come 'ere.”

“What?”

“Come 'ere. I'm gonna hug you and shit.”

She laughed, “I don't actually need a hug. I'm okay.”

“Get your pretty ass the fuck over here. I'm being all fucking sensitive and goddamn supportive, so you take the fuck advantage of it.”

She slid out of her chair and went to stand in front of him. He pulled her onto his lap and put his arms around her. He was actually a pretty good hugger, which surprised her. He pushed her head down into the crook of his neck and rested his cheek on the top her head. He was warm and it was nice to be held.  
Until he ruined it, of course.  
One of his hands slid from her back down over her ass, “So, you want to move this love fest over to the bed? With less clothes?”

She pulled back from him and frowned.

“What? No? What the fuck ever.” He pushed her off his lap, “Go knit your thing, you fucking grandma.” He stood and headed for the door, “Well, if we aren't going to fuck, I got things to do.” 

He left without a backwards glance.


End file.
